My Motivation

Chp.1

"Ugh, I can't! I just can't!" I said frustratedly at my friend who was sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Calm down Ava, just take it slow-"

"NO! I don't get it, I don't want to do this anymore!" I threw the paper I had off of my bed. With a sigh I burried my face into my hands. Nothing had ever felt so stressful.

"Com'mon now, it can't be that hard. I'll help you." Eth hopped off the bed and walked over to where the crumpled paper laid. His full name was Ethan. Ethan Dallas Ivy. We've been friends since fourth grade; he's practically my brother.

"I. Don't. Want. To. Do. This. That paper deserves to be ripped up into pieces... Stupid homework."

"Dude, the first question is easy! You just need to find the circumference of the circle, times it by Pi, then by the radius squared. After you do that, divid it by three."

I just blinked. Did he really just say all of that and not expect my to get lost? "That's easy for you to say, your aceing Geometry."

"Well, you have a B so-"

"A B-." I corrected.

"Whatever, you have a B-, so what? Some people have D's or F's in there." Eth said, attempting to lighten the situation.

"Well those people obviously don't care about their grades- unlike me! Do you know what the requirement to get an A- is? Eighty percent. Eighty percent is all you have to have to get an A, and I can't even do that?!"

Grades were one of the most important things in my life, and right now I had a B- in Geometry. I guess it started all the way back in fifth grade. No- fourth actually.

*•••Flashback•••*
Fourth Grade

"Okay, does everyone know their teacher-parent meeting times?" Mrs. Bati asked standing in the front of the class.

I liked Mrs. Bati. She almost always wore long skirts and plain, matching shirts. She also had long, brown hair that she kept down.

Shoot. I forgot that today was the day all parents were to visit their students' teachers. I couldn't get out of it either- they left a message on my home phone explaining all about it.

I never did any of my homework. Actually sometimes, when I understood it, I did it, but that was very rare. And the homework she gave us was always just math. I mean, couldn't she throw in some English or History at times?

Nope.

Our weekly homework packet was passed out. Every Monday we would be handed a packet to do at our own speed, and it would be due on Friday. This time we we're learning fractions and proportions; that wasn't too bad.

----------

I slowly walked to the school gate where I would be picked up. Four thirty p.m.. That was only an hour and a half away. Getting into my van, I took a breath.

"So, hun, what time are we coming back for the meeting?" my mother asked, starting the van, and driving away.

Never. I want to leave this school. This city if at all possible. I can be home schooled, please!

"Four thirty." I breathed, slouching down in my seat.

I didn't have the guts to say my desperate thoughts. If I was lucky I would only get a weeks worth of grounding- on the second thought it would be way less than the life grounding I would resieve after the meeting...

----------

"Hello, I'm Sheryl Bati, Ava's teacher."

Obviously.

"So your Ava's mother?"

Honestly, I already said that my mum was coming. Who else would it be?

"Yes, I'm Sarai Lovatt." I heard my mother reply.

They both shook hands and settled down in a seat while I stood next to my mother.

"Ava, please be seated, we have much to discuss."

My mum's decent smile faded into a barely-bent line hearing Mrs. Bati's statement.

"Your child is doing great in class Mrs. Lavatt, just fine. She loves writing and doing the projects that are given. She rarely complains at all. In fact, I don't think she has ever complained about doing work."

With that, I zoned out. For some reason, after the smile was put back onto my mum's face, they started to talk about things other than me. I didn't care that much though. At least Mrs. Bati was nice enough to get in some good things about me before she laid the bomb.

----------

It was nearly a half an hour later when the talking was starting to die down. Were they done?

I was so ready to get out of my chair and drag my mother out of that classroom. Unfortunately that didn't happen.

"...There's just one thing that has been making issues with Ava's grades."

Shoot.

"Ava hasn't really been doing her homework lately."

My mother let out a sigh; it wasn't the first time she heard that phrase. I moved to this school during my third year; it was a magnet school with very high standards. Coming from a school that no one ever hear of, Mitra G.A.T.E. was a big change for me. Everyone there either: knew how to play an instrument, played on one of the school sports team, or was a science fanatic.

I tried to play an instrument the first year I came to this school, but since I was doing so poorly turning in my homework, I had to drop out of my viola class just to 'keep up'.

I was awoken from my thoughts when I heard my teacher abruptly ask, "Do you wish to see your daughter do good?"

I felt like crying right then and there. I had always been quite a bit on the sensitive side, but I was so embarrassed at that question. She knew the answer, why did she have to ask?

"Of course I do..." my mother said in a near-whispher, "I just don't know how to make her stay motivated on it."